Rebirth into Snow
by UndeadR1fleman
Summary: A young Warior wakes up with a complete blank mind and is thrown into the the world of The Eldar Scrolls. The story is based off the adventures of a file that I (UndeadR1fleman) have played as. It follows what happens to this warrior and highlights her key exploits.


Prologue (part 1)- The Embers of Helgan

I am Brynhilder, I am a Nordic maiden. Eyes of blue and hair that is blonde. I know nothing more. This is where I truly begin.

This is my rebirth into the cold of Skyrim…

The wind scratched my cheeks; making me flinch slightly and jerk one eye open. I first saw a white sky: watching it drift by with shades of a blizzard brewing to strike soon. The sun was clouded; causing our light to be dull and the slight warmth still came with a piercing bite of cold times. As I fully opened my eyes, the smell of dry leaves and the musky woods made my head light and spin slightly with its potency.

My body suddenly jerked to the side and a sharp but brief pain attacked my thigh. With this, I noticed a man sitting in front of me. He breathed with a sound of broken oaths and a tired soldier's lungs. He had the travelers stubble and the sorrowful eyes every man like him carries into violence. You could taste his honour, but, it tasted old and stale like throw-away bread.

I noticed as I analysed this man, we were sitting on a moving horse-drawn cart. I looked to the side at the muddied road ahead; many other carts were ahead of us all as bland as the next. Prisoners were all wearing the same, rebellious uniform. Dried purples and blues mixed in with chain mail on their clothes as it shined with the memories of blood and also I could smell their sweat of fear in their hearts.

"Hey! You!" The man in front of me said in an addressing manner. I looked to him with bored eyes; face free of any expression. "You're finally awake, you were trying to cross the border right? Walked straight into that imperial ambush same as us! and that thief over there". I looked over and I saw a shrewd looking man, skinny with unpleasant face... He spoke with spite commentary "Damn you Stormcloaks, Skyrim was fine till you came along the empire was nice and lazy...I would of stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!"

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now thief." The Rebel pointed out blandly.

"What's with him, huh?" The Thief asked indicating to a uncommon looking Nord in front of him that was also for an unknown reason gagged.

"WATCH your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak the TRUE High King!" The Soldier shouted with military passion.

"Ulfric Stormcloak... You're the leader of the rebellion! Oh Gods! Where are they taking us?" He sputtered out in fear.

"I don't where we're going, but, whatever the matter, Soverngarde awaits..." The soldier replied morbidly, his eyes dull. The Thief in panic muttered the "eight" divines names and was begging for help, which we all knew what was to lay ahead.

Rolling my slate blue, bored eyes, I drifted off in my own thoughts and allowed their dreary conversation to continue around me. I looked ahead and I saw a little grey hamlet, puffs of smoke were walking from the simple stone chimneys. A small wall circled this little gathering of houses along with a tower that was stout and was an eyesore on this musky village scene. "Open the gates!" Cried an Imperial Guard, making me flinch at the sudden raise in voice. I put my small, end finger in my ear and moved it around to clear the loud, unneeded sound. The large rotted oaken doors flung open almost like they were excited to see a hoard of dreary, old carts with people being transported to their demise.

We finally entered, our fate was waiting to be sealed.

The soldier slipped out a remark about Elves and suspected they were the culprit of our capture. What seemed to be an Elven Commander and a very Noble, but serious man in fancy armour were on horses watching over with slit eyes and grudges. Going through the village didn't take long all there were was the faces of sad stone and cold expressions and a taste and smell of hate. "Why are we stopping?" The Thief inquired worried about the reply.

"END of the line..." Was the explanation of such simplicity, but of such deathly meanings.

We solemnly stepped off the cart, I breathed in the cool, crisp air. I nearly let out a laugh at how comforting I found such a small task. My eyes darkened to a blue that matched a dark, grey sky as I saw the block that would end my life. To me, it looked almost measly, like a unneeded Jester in a Hall of Kings. Out of place and just waiting to of some use. I suppose it would be now; ending my life. Shame, I had so much thirst to fight for longer.

Shaking my head of the thoughts of what my future could've held, my eyes - filled with fire - never left the block.

Now my fate awaited on the bloodied block.

* * *

Written by the UndeadR1fleman

Edited by the FalseProphet666


End file.
